Horrible Herbs and How to Harvest Them
by CharmedQuill
Summary: Neville's feeling restless after the Battle of Hogwarts, unsure what he wants to do with his life. Until Luna asks 'Why not go away'. Follow Neville on his journey around the world, battling beastly bulbs and taming terrible trees.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 _Dear Frank, 21 September 1974_

 _I miss you. Hogwarts really isn't the same without you. I've never spent so much time studying before. How in Merlin's name did you get all your NEWT's with me around? I'm barely keeping up and I've been burying myself in the library because it really is lonely here without you._

 _How are you? I hope you and Benjy have been staying out of trouble. Say hello to him for me._

 _How is training? I know it's tough to be training with everything else happening—how do you think I feel when I open the Prophet every morning? Just do your best. I'm sure I'll be complaining next year when you're out on the job and I'll be stuck in training._

 _Cathy says hello. She says I've become boring without you. Rufus is quite liking not having you around though. I think he may have been rather jealous last year. I've seen him more in the last few weeks than the last six years. Bit annoying really, I don't think cats were meant to be clingy. There's fur everywhere._

 _I miss you._

 _Love,_

 _Alice_

Neville placed the aged parchment back in its dusty cream envelope, carefully creasing it with shaky hands. His grandmother's eyes had remained on him but he could not return her gaze, choosing instead to stare at the pile of letters laying in front of him—neat, plain envelopes from his mother and red and gold embellished envelopes from his father.

'Why now?' Neville said, his voice cracking slightly. 'It's been years… you gave me Dad's wand, Mum's books, all their pictures.'

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his grandmother turn away. She would never be anything less than prideful—her back wouldn't bend until the day she died—but from what he could see of her expression, he could almost imagine it was remorse.

'I'd meant to pass them on before now. I was planning to gift them to you when you came of age. I should have given them to you after your fifth year.'

'Why didn't you?' Neville really didn't want to get angry at his grandmother, but his gut was roiling, twisted rage and grief rising to the surface.

'It was too dangerous.'

Neville opened his mouth to interrupt—and possibly shout at her—when his grandmother swung back to him, her beady eyes silencing him.

'It was too dangerous. The boy I knew wouldn't have gone on a half-cocked rescue plan for a man you didn't even know. But you did, and I wondered what you would do for your parents. I know you love your parents—don't think I never saw you keeping Alice's wrappers—but when you lost your father's wand, it made me realise you were too attached. And that had been partly my fault.'

His grandmother strode towards him, placing one bony hand on his shoulder. 'Frank and Alice are gone. Revenge can't bring them back. I didn't want to give you more reasons to do something foolish. You are… were very young. Sometimes the young don't think with their heads.'

Neville exhaled, trying to release the simmering anger he felt. He would remain courteous at the very least. 'I understand Grandmother. Thank you for giving them to me.'

His grandmother nodded once, her heavy jewellery tinkling as she withdrew her hand. Her next words however, calmed him down more than any reassurance she could give.

'I am… sorry, Neville,' she said, her strident voice softened. 'I am proud of you, as your father and mother would be. You have and will make the Longbottom family who they should be.'

Riding the wave of emotion and seizing the moment, Neville gathered her in a hug, certain that he may never get this chance again. After which, he decided to save for very special occasions. His grandmother's hugs felt remarkably like getting trapped by a Devil's Snare.

Drawing back, Neville could see his grandmother had a smile barely peeking through her wrinkles. Maybe he could endure a few more of her hugs if he got to see her smile more.

'Now, all we need to do is find you a young lady,' his grandmother said, as she strode from the study. 'We need to start thinking about the continuation of the line, what with Algernon neglecting his duties.'

Neville felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and slumped into the hard-backed chair. 'I hope she was joking,' Neville muttered to himself. 'Please Merlin, let her be joking. There's a first time for everything.'

...

 _Neville could hear his heartbeat thump against the stone. Measured steps travelled past his hiding place, the soft whisper of a cloak sliding along the floor. He could feel soft skin searing his back, along with their shallow breathing in his ear. Fiercely, he ignored their heat, clenching his fists in concentration while he listened for any more patrols._

' _I think we're clear,' he breathed, shifting closer to the solid wooden door of the broom cupboard. His ear pressed to the wood, he could hear nothing but the creaking of the moving staircases and the whistling breeze. He pushed the door open, the hinges silenced after a quick spell. Peeking down the shadowy hallway, his eyes—now accustomed to the darkness—couldn't spy anyone. The only inhabitants of the hallway were stiff suits of armour. Gesturing ahead of him, he held the door for his companions._

 _Luna moved ahead of him, her blonde hair charmed black for their excursion and her pale skin covered by a large black robe—Neville's in fact. After her, followed Ginny, disguised similarly to Luna, lithely stepping down the corridor._

 _Neville followed, stopping at a blank stretch of wall, carefully chosen due to its position near the Great Hall. With sharp movements, they unrolled the posters hidden in their cloaks, and used a sticking charm to plaster them to the wall. None of them had the talent to place a permanent sticking charm but it would hold longer than most. It was doubtful Hogwarts would let them permanently stick posters to its walls anyway. Disguised as normal letters and smuggled in from Fred and George, the posters would resist being destroyed, vanished or transfigured. They'd been lucky that Snape and the Carrows had left Filch to deal with searching the mail, who would only look for obvious contraband and ill-concealed codes._

' _Done,' Ginny said, her voice nearly lost in the silence._

' _Dumbledore's Army,' Luna murmured, her fingertips grazing the severe faces of Dumbledore and Harry as they gazed down on them, Dumbledore's Army emblazoned above their heads._

 _Neville, relieved to be done and heading back to their common rooms, felt a smile lift his face. Hopefully, this was the start of something more. Hogwarts wouldn't survive a whole year without hope._

 _They turned to go back down the corridor, but froze when harsh slapping echoed through the air, footsteps pounding on the stone floor._

' _Run!' Neville whispered, the three stepping as lightly as they could as they sprinted for safety. Neville's heartbeat had risen to his ears, drowning out all other noise except for his laboured breathing…_

Neville gasped, coming awake in tangled sheets, sticky with sweat. He slowed his breathing, the comfortable surroundings bringing him back to reality. He was in his bedroom at Longbottom House, the ancestral home of the Longbottoms. Scarlet hangings draped his bed, obscuring the rest of the anciently appointed room—a wide window overlooking the gardens and greenhouse, a solid oak desk which hadn't been moved since it was placed there, and several hangings on the walls, depicting obscure magical legends.

The Longbottoms weren't rich—certainly not like the Malfoys, or how the Malfoys used to be. They were comfortable however; though it was not through sound business decisions. Neville, his grandmother, and his uncle were the only Longbottoms left—their wealth only due to the fact they were alive when others weren't.

Neville tumbled out of his bed, pulling open his window to let the air in. Moonlight flooded the room as he swept aside his curtains. The dusky orb hung high in the sky, drowning out the pinpricks of starlight.

Neville breathed deeply, feeling the panic and horror recede but the memory remained fresh, the moonlight only accentuating it. It had been far from the most horrifying memory of last year, but it had been one of the first—the first time he had been responsible, not just for himself, but for others. After, safely in his dormitory, he had stared at Harry's bed, wondering how he'd taken the pressure of not just fighting for himself, but for everyone. Neville had always been the follower before and while it was scary, there was an ease to it as well. Leading was infinitely harder—every decision he made, every action he took, could spell the end of not only his life, not only the life of his friends, but also the rebellion of Hogwarts.

Walking from the window, he sat at his desk; which could hardly be seen underneath the open books, scattered letters, and pages and pages of notes, Neville's tight script cramping the parchment. He'd been working on cross-breeding cuttings from his _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ with a Flutterby bush. Instead of the volatile plant emitting stinksap when threatened, Neville was hoping to combine the plants so that the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ would create pleasing scents for the owner, courtesy of the Flutterby bush. This would hopefully solve the problem people had with their Flutterby bushes, where they only flowered once every century. The work was hard-going—changing the base property of the plant so that it would no longer produce sap was proving near impossible.

Sighing, he slumped over his desk, his head soothed by the cold timber. His life was at a standstill right now—he didn't have a job and he certainly didn't have his N.E. . He had one offer but he really didn't want to take it. He didn't think he could stand another year of it. Looking down at the greenhouses, he wished he could just stay here, working on his garden all day. But that had its own problems—his grandmother wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon and she was becoming increasingly insistent that he organise his future. His mind whirring, Neville reached for his parent's letters. Though they saddened him dreadfully, an escape from his mind was what he needed right now.

...

Within the first few minutes of arriving at the Burrow, he'd been plied with butterbeer and pushed to a long, wooden table, groaning with enough food to feed Hogwarts, by Mrs Weasley. She was red-faced and slightly mussed as she bustled around the party, handing out treats and drinks to everyone with an empty hand. Neville felt a small amount of panic rise within him. He hadn't been around this many people since the funerals. Slinking away from the knots of people gathered under the banner proclaiming Harry's 18th birthday, he rested against the house, half-concealed by a crooked corner.

He could see Harry trickling around to each group as they wished him happy birthday. _Classmates and Order members mostly_ , Neville thought. He spied Parvati and, next to her, Lavender—newly released from Saint Mungo's, ropy scars tangling her neck—standing near Dedalus Diggle and Hagrid. He could hear Hermione and Ginny inside as they clanked around the kitchen, Mrs Weasley yelling orders out to them. Ron appeared to be locked in a conversation with an inquisitive and stern Professor McGonagall—which explained the pale, slightly slack-jawed look on his face.

'Hiding, Neville?'

Neville jerked his head, slamming it against the solid wooden wall of the Burrow, the windows rattling at him in protest. Groaning, he turned to Luna, who stood beside him wearing a yellow dress covered in pockets and thin hoops hanging from her ears.

'Luna! Don't sneak up on me like that,' Neville said, rubbing his stinging head.

'Oh, sorry Neville, I thought you might have gotten lost.'

'No need to take the mickey, Luna,' Neville grumbled.

Luna smiled, that unfocused, serene smile that had unnerved him so when they had first met. However, as they'd become closer, he'd grown used to it—he'd grown to appreciate it and what it represented. When Luna had been taken, he'd worried that when she was released—and she would be, because there was simply no other option—her smile would not be the same. That whatever had happened to her would have taken away that strange peace that she had found with the world. Thankfully, it had not taken long for his fears to be put to rest, for when she had wandered into the Room of Requirement, that same smile had been on her face.

She settled against the wall, her fingers shining her earrings, rubbing back and forth. 'You can't hide from her forever you know? Ah, the excuses I've had to make up. She'll be terribly sad to find out you're avoiding her.'

'I'm not hiding from her forever,' Neville said, still feeling rather disgruntled. 'Just until she goes back to Hogwarts.'

'You could just tell her. I'm sure she wouldn't mind.'

'You're barking. There's absolutely no way I'm going to say anything. It'll just make things awkward.'

'Better than not talking to her at all. I can tell her if you want.'

'No Luna, don't you dare! If she doesn't kill me, Ron or Harry would.'

'Oh Neville, you're so silly sometimes. Dean went out with her and they're friends now.'

'Yeah, well, Dean isn't in love with her still. Listen, I don't want to talk about this anymore.'

'Alright Neville,' Luna said, patting him on the shoulder. 'I think I'll go take a look at the ghoul. I've heard they have Seer-like powers, did you know?'

'Right, ah no, I didn't, but good luck anyway, Luna.'

Neville joined the party himself, surreptitiously keeping on the other side of the party from Ginny as she chatted with the group.

'Hey Nev.' Ron's voice appeared at his elbow, followed by his grinning, freckly face. Following him was a twitchy Harry who seemed to be, alternately, throwing longing looks towards the orchard and Ginny.

'Hey Ron, hey Harry. Happy Birthday mate.'

Harry waved it away, before double-taking, his eyes opening wide. 'Blimey Neville, I forgot, it's your birthday too, isn't it? Damn, I should have remembered that. Happy Birthday, anyway mate.'

'Don't worry about it. Grandmother is probably the only reason I remembered.'

'Nah, he's talking about Mum. This is the first opportunity Mum's had to organise something other than a funeral since Bill's wedding. She wasn't going to take no for an answer, and unfortunately, Harry was too scared to even try to refuse,' Ron said, smirking at Harry, who punched his shoulder.

'I could have sent her your way if I had remembered,' Harry grumbled.

'I doubt that would have saved you. She probably would've just organised a double party.'

'At least then someone else could suffer with me.'

'That the first time he's ever said that? Voldemort, he can take on by himself, but a party is just too much.' Neville and Ron laughed at Harry's disgruntled expression, as he backed away from them making a rude hand gesture before being corralled by a beaming Hagrid.

It was only a few minutes later, after chatting with Ron, that Neville came face to face with Professor McGonagall.

'Mr Longbottom.'

'Hello, Professor.'

McGonagall stared down at him, unusually thin-lipped considering she had professed to being 'extraordinarily proud' of him not long ago, in a period of unnatural emotion in the aftermath of the battle. Neville gulped, fiddling his fingers behind his back, feeling like a clumsy first-year all over again.

'Professor Sprout is awaiting your reply,' McGonagall said. 'I hope you're not going to keep her waiting too much longer.'

'Neville? What's she talking about?' Ginny said, popping out of nowhere and startling Neville. Seeing her watching him, he quickly looked away, studying his hands.

'I'm surprised you haven't discussed it with your friends,' McGonagall said in a curious yet disapproving tone.

'Ah, right, well, so much has been happening…' Neville said wilting under their combined gaze.

'Mr Longbottom has been offered an apprenticeship with Professor Sprout. He'll spend two more years at Hogwarts, before he would undertake his own study. If he accepts, that is,' McGonagall explained to Ginny.

'Neville! This is going to be great. Why didn't you say something?' Ginny's bright words only heightened Neville's panic. She continued on, prattling about plans for the next year, and Neville could bear it no longer.

'I'm not going!' He burst out. Faced with their dismay, he stuttered on. 'I'm so-sorry professor. The offer was great, really, um…I'm just not sure I want to keep studying at the moment.'

'Well, what are you going to do?' Ginny placed her hands on her hips, eerily reminiscent of her mother.

Neville's salvation, as it happened, was that exact person. Appearing at the door to the Burrow, Mrs Weasley carried an enormous cake shaped like a miniature of Hogwarts, candles burning from the ramparts and bricks carved from grey frosting. She called for everyone to gather around and Neville found himself pushed to the front, sharing the birthday cheers with Harry who stood next to him uncomfortably, an embarrassed smile on his face. Taking Harry's lead, he decided to grin and bear it—before long, he found himself, once again, tucked into a corner, a slab of cake crumbling in his hands, watching everyone as they milled around the table.

'You could go away.'

'Bloody hell Luna!' Neville fumbled his cake, dropping it to the ground where it was pounced on by a group of ecstatic gnomes. Sliding a few steps away, he turned to Luna who had once again sidled up next to him.

'Do you think I might get bitten if I stick my finger in there? Daddy always said Gnome saliva has magical properties.'

'Best not, just in case. It might be bad luck to ruin their meal,' Neville hurried, not eager to see Luna lose her finger.

'Always so cautious Neville. You should go away.' Luna stressed her last sentence, her voice breaking from its usual dreamy tone.

'Go…away?'

'Yes. Go on a trip. Maybe you could find a Dancing fern. They're said to do the waltz under the full moon.'

'Go on a trip…to find a dancing fern…' Neville said in befuddlement.

'Or not…if you don't want to find plants anymore you could go look for a Blibbering Humdinger. Or if you're lucky you could find a Trotodam. They're as big as dragons and live in the Sahara Desert.' Luna's voice began to rise in excitement.

'Luna stop, stop, for just a second…I can't just leave. What about my grandmother? What about…everyone?'

'Home's only a portkey away Neville. And if you can't do what you want to here, then maybe you should go elsewhere.'

Neville swallowed hard, but from the feelings churning in his gut, one rose to the top—excitement—he wanted to do this, get away from everything, the war, his family, Ginny…

'Do you think I could do it?' The question escaped him before he could reel it back.

Luna turned her slightly unfocused eyes to his. 'Of course.'

Neville narrowed his. 'How much firewhisky have you had?'

Luna laughed, great peals ringing out, causing more than a few heads to turn towards them as Neville frantically tried to shush her.

'How…much…good one, Neville,' she gasped.

'Right, right, Luna, just – everyone's staring,' Neville whispered, trying to straighten her up.

It took her a minute, by which time everyone had looked away, but she stopped, occasionally hiccupping, turning her large eyes to him. 'Where do you think you'll go'

'I don't know. I've only been to be France and that was a pretty short trip. Grandmother doesn't like being away from home.'

'You should travel the world. You could be the next Newt Scamander.'

'Newt Scamander?' Neville repeated, wrong-footed.

'Author of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. I heard his grandson might be writing another of those though,' Luna frowned.

'I don't think I'm too good with animals anyway Luna.'

'But you're pretty good with plants?' Luna said, slyly. _Well, slyly for her_ , Neville thought. He could just see the corner of her lips turned upwards on her blank expression.

'Yes, yes, I'm good with plants,' Neville sighed, grabbing her in a sideways hug.

'And you can work for the Quibbler,' a muffled Luna said. 'That way you have to write.'

'Fine. But when I find the equivalent of a _Blibbering Humdinger_ , it better be on the front page,' Neville joked.

'I'll miss you, Neville.'

'You'll still have Ginny and Hermione and all the DA at Hogwarts. And you know Harry and Ron will be sneaking in as much as possible.'

'You still have them too Neville. Don't forget that while you're on your adventure.'

'Never,' Neville said, rubbing Luna's arm, feeling happiness well up inside him as he watched all his friends laughing around the garden. It was tinged bittersweet, however, because of the ones who were missing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _Dear Alice,_

 _You were right. I am frustrated. The teachers are a joke. The students are a joke. Our classes break-down until all anyone is doing is trying to figure out who is under the Imperius curse. Not that it isn't possible. One instructor and two students have been found so far._

 _I'm sticking it out though. The requirements to become an Auror are so low all I have to do is attend every class and I'll get to go in the field at the end of the year._

 _Don't worry too much. Our mutual friends are teaching me a thing or two. I'll be safe._

 _Say hello to Cathy for me. And remind Rufus that he won't get the attention for long so he better make the most of it._

 _Now, for the good stuff. I love you too. I miss you too. This is going to be a very long year. I've already asked Mother about Christmas and she has relented (grudgingly, mind you) that your family are welcome to stay at Longbottom House over Christmas. Please, please, come along. It would be good for Mother to have the house full again. I think she's been struggling._

 _Last summer feels so far away. I need this year to be over already. I feel like we're frozen, having to wait months before we can restart life again. Benjy is a good friend, but I didn't realise how far we'd grown apart or if we were never even that close in the first place. I need you and letters aren't enough._

 _Love,_

 _Frank_

Neville folded the letter carefully, before pocketing it in his long, dragonhide coat. Luna had given it to him, practically forced it into his hands when he came to say goodbye. He felt rather uncomfortable—it was hot in the south of France, but Luna's talk of needing to protect him had startled him slightly. While he had faith in his ability to face down plants of all kinds, who knows what else he may run into on his journey.

Filing the questions he had about his grandmother— _why was she struggling_ —and who these two friends— _Cathy and Benjy_ —were away in the back of his mind, he continued trudging up the winding dirt path, half overgrown with dry grass and low shrub. It was a mindless walk and Neville soon found his thoughts drifting again.

His goodbyes hadn't taken long. His grandmother had huffed but had relented quickly. Perhaps she understood what he was feeling. Or perhaps she respected him enough to make his own decisions. Ginny had been the hardest. He nearly sent an owl before Luna dissuaded him, urging him to visit the Burrow.

' _So, you've just decided to leave? What about Hogwarts? What about your friends?' Ginny said, her freckles disappearing as blood flooded her cheeks. She stared at him for a moment, her gaze seemingly far away. 'Why now, Neville? And tell me the truth. You've been different ever since the Battle. This is the most we've talked since before Easter.'_

' _I just… I have to get away. Too many memories, you know?' Neville said, though Ginny must have remained unconvinced by his tone because she crossed her arms, watching him unblinkingly. Deciding to play his ace, which Ginny could never refute, he continued. 'Luna's offered me a job too. The Quibbler needs help getting contributors. Xeno still isn't well and she told me that some of their regulars have been scared off by the rumours he helped Death Eaters.' Seeing her shift uncomfortably, slowly unfolding herself from the tight angry bunch she was in, Neville finished with one last plea. 'I want to discover new magical plants. I won't be much of a herbologist if I stay at Hogwarts forever.'_

' _Alright, alright,' a weary smile making its way onto Ginny's face. 'You're right. I don't think I'd take too kindly if you told me to stay home like a good girl.' Ginny paused, a sombre air invading the normally warm sitting room of the Burrow. 'I just don't like being left behind and it feels like everyone else is, with Harry and Ron not coming back and now you…'_

' _Well, we need the head start,' Neville joked. 'It won't be long before you're a world-famous Harpy and will've outshone the rest of us.' Ginny made a face, though Neville could see her eyes brighten again._

' _Fat chance of that with Harry around thankfully.'_

' _That just means you'll be double the celebrity.'_

 _She paled. 'I didn't think of that.'_

' _Ah, don't worry, you'll be fine.'_

 _Before she could reply, the fire blazed green. Out tumbled a grumbling Harry, robes and glasses askew. Spotting Ginny, he immediately brightened, sweeping her up in a kiss. Neville turned away at the sight, staring at the waving photos crowded above the fireplace. He felt a pang at the little Weasleys all clustered around a beaming Fred._

' _Harry…'_

' _Yes, love?'_

' _Neville's here,' Ginny said, causing Neville to look back. Ginny was smirking, disentangling herself from a bright red Harry, who cleared his throat uncomfortably._

' _Sorry about that, Neville.'_

' _It's alright,' he said, waving it away._

' _He's just here to say goodbye. He's leaving.'_

' _What?' Harry said in befuddlement, swinging his eyes between the two of them._

' _He's going on an expedition. To find plants.'_

' _Oh… oh, well, that's excellent. Where are you going?'_

' _Auvergne to start with. Professor Sprout gave me a letter to take to the head herbologist there.'_

' _Auvergne?' Harry asked, while Ginny's mouth dropped._

' _It's the centre of herbology in the world. It's a group of volcanoes in France,' she explained to Harry, who gave a low whistle, before turning back to Neville. 'Neville… that's incredible. Sprout must really think a lot of you if she's giving you an introduction.'_

' _Thanks,' he said, scratching the back of his neck. Hearing Mrs Weasley in the kitchen beginning to make dinner, the pots clanking as she summoned them to the stove, he decided he'd better leave now, before he had to suffer a long meal in the warm crowded kitchen._

' _I should get going. I'll make sure to write.' Sticking out his hand to shake Harry's, he said, 'Take care of yourself Harry. Leave some dark wizards for the rest of us.'_

' _No promises,' Harry said, chuckling, before moving aside for Ginny._

 _Neville was staggered when Ginny threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly. 'Be safe, Neville. And you better become the best bloody herbologist in the world,' she said as she released him, her voice a little clipped. Neville could see she was keeping a tight hold on her emotions. Harry stood behind her, placing a hand on the small of her back to comfort her. Neville grimaced, though he turned towards the fireplace to hide his expression._

 _Just before he stepped in the fire, he turned his head. 'You two be good to each other, yeah?' he said, though the words were torn from his throat. 'I expect to be an uncle by the time I get back.' There was a small gasp. The last thing he saw was two red teenagers being stared at by a flustered Mrs Weasley, her mouth wide open in surprise. Neville, spewed out of his fire at home and snickered—a little pettiness never hurt anyone._

He'd booked a night in the muggle inn at the base of the mountains, resorting to hand signals to communicate with the deliberately obtuse landlord. He thought he could hear quite a few snickers from behind the counter as the receptionist shook his head that 'no, he did not understand.' Fed up, Neville had thrust some of the odd money Hermione had exchanged for him onto the counter and started carting his trunk upstairs. That had seemed to stop the teasing they were giving him, though whenever he saw another employee of the inn, they seemed to be struggling to keep their face straight.

He hadn't thought about the language barrier before leaving—really, he'd only thought about the plants. He'd gone on this trip to get away from people after all.

Now, he was starting his journey up the tallest of the volcanoes; the Puy De Sancy. The muggles had their own trail, strictly monitored and cleared of magical plants, muggle repelling charms ensuring they never strayed too far from the safe areas. To get to the magical entrance of the volcano, Neville would have to hike through the wilderness, carefully making his way through magical plants of all kinds. The rich soil provided by the volcano caused all number of magical plants to grow here, new species and old species being discovered all the time. The landscape changed dramatically as different plants battled over their territory and food. All in all, it wasn't a particularly welcoming place to visit. Professor Sprout had told him that only the best herbologists were supposed to have access to the hanging gardens, meaning that this hike wasn't just an inconvenience—it was a test and Neville certainly wasn't going to be stymied by the first leg of his journey.

He was roused from his thoughts—the unremarkable bush trail he'd been following had given way to a thick forest, a green canopy jutting out and obscuring his view of the giant volcano. Neville could feel his skin prickle—the sounds had changed—during his walk, the sounds around him had been the muggle leaves rustling in the wind and thin twigs snapping, with a rare animal scurrying through the branches. A magical forest was an entirely different beast—the faint rasp of branches against branches like chalk on a blackboard, the low hum as if every tree was home to a beehive, and the crackle, the pop, not like twigs snapping but like oil sizzling in a pan. Neville gazed at the forest, the trees overlaid with creeping vines, the slight movements of the leaves maybe from the wind, or something more sinister. Once he went in there, he might lose himself for days, the forest turning him this way and that. While he could always leave through apparition—provided he wasn't subjugated, dismembered or murdered by a wizard-hating plant—that would be admitting failure and Neville was still a Gryffindor—bravery and pride came hand-in-hand.

Squaring his shoulders, taking a deep breath, Neville marched into the forest, the hum rising to almost a purr, the branches swaying as though they were enticing him to march further in.

'Bloody hell.'

He imagined what Luna would say; "Oh look Neville, what do you think's doing that? Maybe there's a tribe of bowtruckles welcoming us with a dance." He sighed. Despite wanting to leave, he missed his friends, Luna especially. While they had both been close with Ginny, she had always been rather popular despite her horrid first year. Him and Luna had been outcasts since their first year and that bond had made them closer than he had ever thought possible.

He brushed through the undergrowth, careful not to linger against any specific plant, keeping his hands tucked into his coat. It wasn't long however, before he ran into trouble.

Neville remained very still. The creeping purple feeler wound through the jagged rock, its tip searching for Neville who didn't dare breathe. Cautiously, he removed his pack from his shoulders, inching the flap open. He placed his hand inside, though his eyes remained on the plant, rummaging with delicacy for the item. While he'd never seen this plant before, it bore some resemblance to a Devils Snare and he was hoping it would share the same weaknesses. Admittedly, he could use an _incendio_ to try burning it, but burning the forest to the ground would hardly make a good impression. His hand fumbled and grasped at a smooth metal cylinder, clinking slightly as he extricated it from his bag—a present from Professor Sprout, it looked like a muggle lighter or Professor Dumbledore's deluminator, an undecorated burnished silver. He flicked the cap open—a small flame flickered to life causing the tentacle to pause in its search, twitching in the air like a dog's nose. The flame congealed at the top, appearing more similar to water than gas. Neville scooped the flame into his hand, shutting the cap and placing it in his pocket before rubbing both his hands together, the flame included. It spread over his hands, undulating over his skin, a creeping, slimy feeling, reminding Neville of a disillusionment charm except it was pleasantly warm. That was the advantage of the _Hearthfyre_ —safe for witches and wizards and very easy to control. Even if Neville accidentally placed his hand on a tree trunk, while it would scorch the trunk, the fire wouldn't spread, remaining adhered to his skin.

He dropped his pack, clanking to the ground, the tentacle striking at him. Neville's hands were held in front of him, ready for the attack, but his vision blurred as the tentacle flew at him, morphing green and scaly… _the snake was staring at him… the hat was burning on his head but he couldn't distinguish it from the anger burning through his body… he wondered if his parents felt like this as they went mad… he was free… a glittering sword was in his hands… it cut a gleaming circle in the air as the snake's head flew, black blood spraying over his face… an inhuman scream pierced the air…_

Neville gasped, coming back to the forest, his outstretched arms warding off nothing. He gaped, looking for the tentacle before moving his gaze downwards, dread filling him. Instead of one tendril, he was surrounded by them, writhing over each other, creeping their way towards him. He waved his hands around, the heat making them flinch back for a moment, but soon searching for him, their feelers twitching in the air like sniffing Niffler noses.

He glanced around quickly, frantically searching anything of help. Beyond coating himself with _Hearthfyre_ , a dangerous hazard to the forest, he wasn't sure what he could do. His eyes lit upon the rocky cliff above him. If he could just bait the plant underneath it…

Scrambling backwards, he pressed his back against the cliff, watching as the wriggling mass inched closer and closer. It was still searching for him, its feelers tasting the air. Neville pointed his wand above him at the overhang, his hands sticky with sweat.

Breathing in deeply, he began to slap the rock, the ringing sound echoing through the forest. The creepers seemed to perk up, writhing faster towards him. Neville waited a few seconds as it slowly made its way over—when he judged it had come just far enough, he jabbed his wand. ' _Reducto_!' he called, a beam of red light leaving his wand and cracking the edge of the cliff. The rock hung for a moment before it crashed down, the vines screeching as they were crushed beneath its weight. Neville crossed his arms over his face, protecting it from the chips of debris that flew at him. Cautiously, he peered around his arms at the pinned plant, feeling not a small amount of relief, tinged by sadness. He crept closer, studying the whorls and bumps of the purple vines, looking for any distinctive markings.

'Marvellous, marvellous!'

Neville spun around at the words, his wand pointed at the man who had crept up behind him. A wispy man stood in front of him; his grey beard tinged with green, his robes laced with so many twigs he resembled a pincushion, and his hands thick with calluses and dirt. He spared only a glance at Neville, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the wriggling mass Neville still had pinned under a rock.

'What a beauty this one is,' he said, crouching down to poke it with his fingers, the tentacles groping for purchase. 'Cheeky little bugger.'

Neville wasn't sure what accent he spoke— _perhaps Australian,_ he thought as he watched the odd man croon to the plant, playing with its reaching feelers, never letting them get a grip on him, but skimming the surface as though he were stroking a slimy, octopus-like cat.

'Do you want to keep her then?' the man asked, suddenly straightening and staring at Neville with squinted eyes.

'What?'

'You caught her. Do you want to keep her? If you don't, she'd make a fine playmate for some of her cousins.'

'Her… cousins?'

'Yes boy, are you daft? This here is a relatively new cousin to the Devil's Snare – the Squiggly Vine.'

The name was said with a look of pride and Neville could see the wizard watching him for his reaction. Unable to utter more than a grunt of acknowledgement, he watched the struggling purple plant as it began to tire, it's feelers drifting slowly to the ground.

'I'll workshop it,' the wizard sighed. 'So, do you want her or can I take her?'

'No, no, you have… er… her.'

'Bloody brilliant. Need some more to keep 'em exercising together. Don't want 'em spreading to the other enclosures.'

'You work at the Hanging Gardens? Of Auvergne?' Neville asked, joy filling him at the prospect of being so close to his destination.

The wizard stopped his prodding, suspicious eyes suddenly glancing every which way. 'Who's asking?'

'Nev-Neville Longbottom.' At the wizard's blank stare, he continued. 'I'm here to learn, I think, umm… Professor Sprout, she's the Professor of Herbology at Hogwarts, she gave me a letter for me to give to the head herbologist there.' Neville dug the envelope from his pocket and squinted at the scribbled name. 'I think it's Professor Augbury?'

'Hey!' As Neville was reading it, the man snatched it from his hands, his grubby fingers smearing the cream envelope. He tore it open, fanning the parchment out to read from, his beady eyes darting back and forth across the page.

'Are you - Are you Professor Augbury?'

'No,' the man snorted, his perusal of the letter uninterrupted.

'I'll have to ask you to give that back then,' Neville said, a wave of annoyance washing over him.

'Fine,' the wizard grunted, tossing the letter at Neville's feet. Neville scrabbled for it blindly while keeping his eyes pinned to the wizard. He wasn't sure what to make of him and didn't want to take any chances. 'So, Auvergne boy?' he said, his eyes glinting with malice. Neville was reminded forcefully of Amycus Carrow. 'You've got a long way to go, haven't you?'

Neville brushed the letter on his jacket, pocketing it securely inside. 'Yes,' he replied tersely.

'Oi, don't be like that mate. I can help you. I'm from there me self,' he said proudly. He leaned in conspiratorially. 'Tell you what, I'll lead you straight there. I know every speck of dirt in these woods, I practically live here.'

Neville smiled wryly at his appearance. 'I don't doubt it.'

'Bloody excellent,' he said, clapping his hands once, causing Neville to glance around in concern. Noticing Neville's caution, he laughed. 'Don't worry about anything. Nothing wants to come eat us with ol' squiggly right here.' He patted the vine before letting out a yelp as it grabbed at him. He danced sideways out of the way throwing it a mistrustful look. He turned back to Neville. 'There's just one little favour I need,' he said.

'What is it?' Neville asked warily.

The wizard produced a jar filled with a thick red liquid inside. 'Just used some of this cologne on yourself,' he said with a malicious smile. 'This vine's a real bloodhound.'

Neville gulped.

…

'This way Neville! Hurry up or she'll catch you.'

'I'm running… as fast…' Neville puffed, barrelling through the undergrowth. Between his steps, he could hear the vine slithering after him, no more than 20 metres back. The wizard had liberally dabbed him with what Neville thought was cows blood, causing the vine to go crazy underneath the rock, its questing tentacles reaching for Neville. The wizard had barely told him a direction before he levitated the rock off and it was after him. Now, he was running for his life because he was an idiot and let some crazy wizard put blood on him. _Good one, Neville_ , he thought, _great way to start your adventure_.

'Come on, almost there,' he called back, his stick-ridden robe almost blending in to the surrounding trees. 'Its just around the corner.'

Neville gasped as he stumbled around a thick pair of trees, tripping and falling onto the ground. He looked at the ground in surprise—in place of the dirt and dead leaves was smooth ebony stone, almost reflecting his face at him. He jerked up as slithering invaded his hearing, scrambling forward on his elbows and knees. Out of the corner his eye, a flash of white crossed his vision. A great hiss echoed behind him and at once, he dropped to the ground, his hands futilely covering his head.

' _Immobulus_!' a feminine voice shouted, the world seeming to freeze in place. Neville cautiously lifted his head to see a witch pointing her wand behind him, a fierce look on her face. He gulped—she was willowy, with a chiselled face, and piercing blue eyes. She was bloody pretty but terrifying. She was furious, her face drawn in sharp lines, her white robes billowing around her.

'David,' she growled, whipping her wand around to point at the smug wizard who'd jumped out of the trees. 'I've told you before—immobilise the snares before you bring them here. You're stirring up the whole forest.'

The ragged wizard, apparently named David, snorted. 'You know it hurts it to hold it like this.' He levitated it towards a boulder set into the sheer wall of the mountain. 'Well?' he asked.

She sighed. With a wave of her wand, the boulder rumbled out of the way, a dark cavern opening in front of Neville's eyes. 'Just take it in. We'll be having words later.'

He bowed. 'Much obliged,' he said sarcastically, the mess of vines floating in front of him as they both disappeared into the darkness. Neville gulped as the intimidating woman turned her attention to him. He scrambled to his feet.

'Hi,' he said nervously, her cool eyes surveying him. He stuck out his hand. 'Pleasure to meet you.'

She ignored it. 'Why are you here boy?'

Neville cleared his throat awkwardly. 'Professor Sprout sent me. I've got a letter for Professor Augbury.'

She held her hand out expectantly. Neville peered at her suspiciously but handed the letter over. She slid the letter from the envelope, unfolding the parchment with little care. She perused the letter with pursed lips, her face frozen in strict nonchalance.

'Are you Professor Augbury?' Neville asked, shifting awkwardly.

'Yes,' she said shortly, her eyes flashing at him once before drifting back to the parchment.

'Oh,' Neville said. 'Is this Auvergne?'

She hummed in agreement, folding the letter and placing it in her robes. 'You, Neville Longbottom, are permitted inside the sanctuary.' She stared at him with sharp eyes. 'Don't let us down.'

'Oh,' Neville said, fidgeting under her gaze.

She gazed at him for a few seconds before gesturing him to follow as she walked towards the opening created by the boulder moving out of the way. Neville followed cautiously, still slightly jumpy. Ahead of him, Professor Augbury was swallowed by darkness. Breathing deeply, he followed, the rocky walls fading to shadow. He bumped into a solid figure. A light hand grasped him and pushed him to the left. His eyes adjusted to see Augbury pushing him into position. She looked at him in curiosity—then before him the volcano opened up. He was standing on a ledge, the path spiralling around the cone. At the bottom, he could see a dull orange liquid bubbling, the heat from the magma toasting his face. Around the mountain, plants of all shapes, sizes and colours hung, following a path cut right into the rock face. They looked sinister, the forbidding light cast by the lava washing over them. Neville couldn't look away from the vibrant life that teemed in every corner of the bubbling volcano.

'Welcome to Auvergne, Neville Longbottom,' said Augbury.


End file.
